Corset, a Ginny and Cedric Story
by Naiae
Summary: Follow Ginny and Cedric through their lives at Hogwarts, made complicated by drama, life trials and a funny little man we like to call Lord Voldemort. "Avada Kedavra!" Just kidding.
1. Chapter 1

HEY EVERYONE(:  
my first ginny cedric story, etc, etc.

it's ginny's SECOND year (13) & cedric's fourth (15).

oh...and ginny's on the quidditch team. sorry for not sticking to original.

thanks for reading. :D review?

* * *

Cedric Diggory had never quite liked Thanksgiving.

He hated it, actually.

Fuck pilgrims and their tall hats. No one liked tall hats anyway.

Except for maybe Abraham Lincoln. But that was beside the point.

Anyhow.

The cranberries at Hogwart's Thanksgiving feast never sat well with Cedric's stomach (God knows why he ate them every time)– nor, as it seemed, did they bode well with Ginny Weasley's stomach either.

Which was how, curiously, he found himself sitting in the girls' bathroom, holding her hair back as she puked in a toilet.

"It's the cranberries," he found himself saying awkwardly.

She paused between retches. "Shut up," she said, and resumed her business.

He laughed. "You are in no position to insult," he answered, breathing through his mouth. The smell was getting to him.

Actually, that was a lie. It was nauseating.

"I like your hair," he said. His head felt heavy. He leaned back on the edge of the stall, closing his eyes. He felt her hair slip out of his hands.

It smelled like…well, barf.  
Not her hair - the barf smelled like barf.

She stood up and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, her blue eyes watering.

"You're-" she started, and stopped. "You look sick."

"Cranberries," Cedric slurred. Black crept into the sides of his vision. He staggered over to the mirror, hunched over the sink. His arms were shaking. Ginny came up behind him, putting her hand on his forehead. "You're freaking hot," she said, horrified.

"I know," he said stupidly, because it was the first thing he thought of. He laughed, sort of. "I sound like a drunk-"

He felt himself pitching forward – a loud crash - and then his face was pressed against the cold marble floor.

"Cedric!" he heard Ginny scream. He opened his eyes, staring into her blue ones. The room had stopped spinning.

"Hi," he said, and she held back a laugh.

"You're cut up pretty badly," she told him. She put her finger to his forehead lightly, and it came away stained with crimson.

"Damn, I feel it now," he grimaced. His face was throbbing, as it tended to do after headbutting mirrors.

"I'll take you to the hospital wing?" she offered.

"Beats the Thanksgiving Feast any day," he grinned.

"Don't sit up too fast," she warned. Their eyes met and Cedric realized that her eyes looked just like sea glass and she smiled and he smiled and…

he sat up too fast. Oh, and he barfed.

Oh, not on Ginny. Just next to her. All the cranberries in his system went flooding back out of him. Just out of the more inconvenient, uncomfortable pipe. He actually felt a great deal better afterwards, though. Though his head hurt like a mother.

He looked up, his eyes watering.

"Oh, shit," he said, looking up. "I broke the mirror."

"You sure did," she agreed cheerfully. He smiled at her sarcastically, getting to his feet slowly. In the fragments of the shattered mirror, he realized that his face was streaked with blood. Wonderful.

"I look like a mess," he said.

"A sight to behold," she added.

"Doesn't that I mean I look incredibly beautiful?"

She scrunched up her nose. "I was thinking along the lines of incredibly ugly. But suit yourself." She grinned at him.

"I'll take incredibly beautiful, thanks."

She let out a cross between a scoff and a laugh. "Oh, by the way, I'm pretty sure you're sick. What kinds of naughty things have you been getting yourself into?"

"Sex can hardly get you sick," he scoffed.

"Oh, scandalous. I was thinking moonlit strolls and kissing in the rain. That little playtoy of yours, Cho?"

He frowned. "How do you know Cho?"

"So it's a yes?" she grinned.

He winced. "Hardly. We're just friends."

"With benefits," Ginny laughed.

You and Potter?" he asked, skirting the subject.

Ginny giggled. "The last time he talked to me, I put my elbow in the butter dish. Fred and George aren't letting me forget it.

"So that's a no?"

"Nope."

"No?"

"No."

"So no?"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Cedric?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

* * *

Ginny siphoned off the blood with her wand gently.

"It's not as bad as it seemed," she said. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Loads," he said, from where he was lying on his bed. "You?"

She nodded her assent. "I like the decorations," she commented. Quidditch posters adorned the blue and yellow walls, unrecognizable players clad in red and black zooming across the pitch. They fell silent.

The sudden awkwardness was blinding. Ginny was thinking that she was alone in the dorm room with a guy she barely knew, tending the wounds he had acquired after fainting into a mirror. She had only known him from afar: her brothers spoke of him often.

Cedric was thinking about chocolate fudge, because the room had suddenly begun to smell like vanilla and his deprived stomach had made the only logical leap to chocolate. Then he realized that he had taken a girl he'd barely knew into his dorm room. He had only known her from afar, by association with her many brothers; she was cleaning the blood off his face after he'd fallen into a mirror.

Splendid.

"So, Ginny Weasley," he began.

Her eyes snapped onto his, and he noticed that her eyes were green, like spearmint and leaves. Was spearmint a kind of leaf? He wasn't sure. Her red hair fell far past her shoulder.

_You remind me of Christmas. _"Tell me about yourself."

She smiled, looking away.

"Um..my real name is Ginerva. I hate aubergines. I tried to curse my freckles off once. My Bat-Bogey hexes are a bitch. I tie my left shoe first. Always. I keep a diary." She blushed. "Tell me about you," she said.

"I'm boring," he admitted. "I'm a sucker for adventure though. I was born with purple eyes." He shrugged. "That's about it."

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "This would be so much more fun with Veritaserum."

"Next time," Cedric said.

The door to the dormitory burst open. Ernie Macmillan staggered in, clutching his stomach, followed closely by Ryan Summers, and (to Ginny's great displeasure) Zacharias Smith.

"Watch out, he's gonna blow," Summers warned. Ernie's face turned a light shade of green that, had it not been on his face, would be a rather lovely, sea green color.

"Don't tell me twice," Ginny said darkly. The earlier events in the bathroom had not been forgotten.

"Wait, I'm going with you," Cedric added hastily. "It's the cranberries," he added, before the door slammed shut.

* * *

"So…" Cedric said. The corridors were dark; everyone was still at the feast.

"So…" Ginny repeated. She looked up Cedric. "How old _are _you?"

"Fifteen," he said. "How old are you?"

She considered lying, and decided against it. "Thirteen."

They lapsed into silence again, walking through the corridors wordlessly.

"Let's play Quidditch," he said.

Ginny frowned. "You have a _fever_," she said slowly. "You're sick."

"So what?" he countered, a grin widening his face.

"How are we going to play Quidditch with two people?" she asked, skeptical.

"We could just fly," he offered.

"It's dark outside," she resisted.

"I'll meet you here in ten minutes," he said. She rolled her eyes.

"Fine," she sighed.

* * *

The wind whipped through her hair as she flew over Hogwarts on a school broom, smooth but unfamiliar in her hands. Cedric was right behind her.

"I've heard you're one hell of a Quidditch player," he yelled towards her.

She laughed. "From who?"

"Oh, you know. People talk," he said mysteriously.

"I've heard you're pretty good too. Decent," she teased.

"I try," he grinned. They started their descent, onto the banks of the Severn River. The moonlight glistened off the surface of the river, throwing facets of pearly light onto both their faces. Ginny laid down on the grass, tipping her face upwards.

"It's so beautiful," she said.

"I know," he said. "I come here sometimes."

This is where the memory got fuzzy. Perhaps it was the exhilaration from flying, perhaps it was a side effect of his feverish state. Perhaps it was the scent of vanilla that played tricks with his mind. Perhaps it was the image of Ginny Weasley's upturned face, pale in the moonlight, her red hair auburn in the darkness, no less beautiful than a goddess.

"Ginny," he remembered himself saying. And when she turned towards him, he kissed her.

* * *

He woke up in the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey offered him a cup of tea.

"Fever, Diggory," she said, not unkindly. "That poor Weasley girl had to fly you back to Hogwarts herself."

_Ginny._ "Where is she?" he asked.

"I advised her to go down to breakfast. She spent the night," Madame Pomfrey explained.

As if on cue, Ginny walked into the hospital wing, her face red. She had hoped Madame Pomfrey wouldn't have mentioned that little tidbit.

"Oh hi," she said. "You're awake." Her hair was pulled back in a loose bun, a sweatshirt hidden under her robes.

He felt a blush steal across his cheeks in spite of himself. "Yeah, thanks for everything. Really."

"No problem," she said, fingering the bedspread. They had become acquaintances again, hyperaware that they had only known each other a day, that they had no other knowledge and role in the other's life. Ginny thought Cedric found her weird for spending the night when she so clearly did not know him. Cedric thought Ginny found him way, way too forward. And undesirable. And sex driven and hormone crazy. Which he was. Oh God.

"Listen, Ginny," he said. "Yesterday…I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking straight. I don't...I shouldn't have…"

_I wanted it._ "It's fine," she said, even though it wasn't.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I have to go," she said.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, he thought about her. He could, however, not find her in the hallways, or in the Great Hall. So accessible to him before, she was elusive now, a shadow flitting through darkness.

"I don't know," he said, frustrated, sitting in the Hufflepuff common room with Cho patting his knee sympathetically. "She must have taken it the wrong way, thought that I didn't…want her or something."

"Well…you didn't exactly phrase it the best way," Cho said slowly. Emily Finn sat across from him.

"You're so stupid, Cedric," Emily sighed. "When you told her you were delusional, it meant that you didn't _really _want to kiss her."

"But I didn't. It just happened," he mumbled.

"But you did," Cho groaned. "You were just afraid of the rejection. That you probably wouldn't even have gotten anyway."

(it was common knowledge that Cedric was somewhat of a Quidditch/sex God)

"Jesus. Didn't you just meet her?" Emily asked.

"Yes. I mean no. I just…want her," Cedric moaned.

"Boys and their hormones," Emily sighed, "are so stupid." The common room door opened, and Parker Kilroy walked in.

"Hey guys," he said, throwing himself down on the couch in front of the fire. Thanks to the Quidditch team, the four of them had been the best of friends for two years now. "What's up?"

"Cedric's level of hormone control is ridiculously pitiable," Cho said, at the same time that Emily said, "Cedric's experiencing irrepressible lust for a girl he just met."

And then, together: "And he screwed it up."

Cedric covered his eyes with his arm, his heart feeling strangely muffled. "Thanks guys," he said. Parker barked out a laugh.

"Dude," he said. "Nice job. Who's the girl?"

"Ginny Weasley," Emily coughed.

"Ginny Weasley," Cho sneezed.

"Ginny Weasley," Cedric moaned.

Parker let out a whistle. "Smoking hot."

Cedric raised his hand off of his eyes, more alert. "You think so?"

"Sure," Parker shrugged. He started up the staircase to the dormitory.

Cedric let his head fall back to the sofa.

"You need sleep. Or cookies," Emily said thoughtfully.

"Or both," said Cho.

* * *

"Holy shit," Cedric whispered to Cho, exactly three weeks later in the library. They sat in a circle in a corner, Emily and Parker beside them.

"She looks awful," Emily whispered to Parker.

Her skin was pale and drawn; her entire body seemed to point towards the floor. She looked tired. Not studying too late tired, but tired from the core. Exhausted. Worn out. Her robes seemed too big on her. She walked past, not even noticing them.

"I'll be back," Cedric whispered, and he got to his feet, following her.

"Ginny," he whispered forcefully. She turned.

"Hi," she said.

"Hey," he said again, feeling big compared to her. She had dark hollows underneath her eyes, her hair tied back messily. "You okay? You look kind of..."

"Tired? Shitty?" she supplied. She exhaled. "I know. I'm fine, thanks though."

"Well...okay. You can talk to me if you need anything," he added.

_You wouldn't get it._ "I will," she smiled, a feeble attempt. "Well, Happy Halloween."

"You too," he said.

Feeling confused, Cedric walked back to his friends, shrugging as they looked up.

"Girls," he said, "are so confusing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note:** So I picked up this story after a long hiatus, and realized that I made the plotline go from Thanksgiving to Halloween…..so we're assuming Thanksgiving happened last year (but they're both in the same years – confusing, I know!). :P sorry about that!

* * *

Ginny Weasley, Cedric thought, had a nice face. It was naturally guileless, and even hollowed out and tired-looking, she was still pleasing to look at. He sighed sat down at the Hufflepuff table, across from Emily, wishing there was some way to abridge the distance to the Gryffindor table.

The Great Hall was decorated for the occasion (Halloween), complete with Hagrid's enormous, enchanted pumpkins (that spat a seed out when you weren't looking and added a pleasant little bucolic touch), torches that cast long silhouettes that played across the ground. There was a little pile of hay that looked a bit misplaced, but no one really paid attention to it.

Cedric shot a glance at the Gryffindor table.

"Looking for Ginny?" Emily asked dryly, a bit facetiously. Always so succinct.

Cedric winced. "Maybe," he said, and picked at his food tepidly. "I was trying to be…" - he deliberated, and settled on the right word – "unobtrusive." Parker snatched the fork out of his hand.

"Are you _still_ not over her? It's almost been a year, man. What happened to Lillian?"

Cedric winced again, and tried to think of a retort that was even remotely scintillating. Veracity had never been one of his strong suits, but then again, wit hadn't been either.

"No, I'm over her," he said weakly, in a voice that did not quite belie the truth. Parker glared at him, and he sighed.

"She was so…" he started, and cut off.

"Obsequious?" Cho supplied.

"Sycophantic?" Emily added.

"Dogmatic (_"do you even know what that means?")_," Parker suggested, "about sex_._"

"Psycho," Cedric said decidedly.

Instinctively, all four of them turned to look at Lillian Beacon, who was sitting on her latest boyfriend in a rather unseemly manner a few seats down at the Ravenclaw table, jauntily spoon feeding him a large forkful of yams as his hands roamed up the back of her shirt in an equally unseemly manner. Every inch of Lillian Beacon screamed _gregarious_, especially in between her legs. Cedric cringed.

"_How _that girl is a Ravenclaw…" Cho mused.

"Life is full of mysteries," Parker said, and they continued eating, Ginny forgotten in every mind but one.

It was, all in all, a lovely evening (punctured by Filch screaming "_Renegade, renegade!_" and being goaded by Dumbledore into eating half a pumpkin pie (a pumpkin spit a seed at him on his way out)), and by 9 pm, Cedric could barely keep his head upright.

His thoughts were barely lucid, and he sat slumped over the table, massaging his stomach. At 9:30 pm, the roaring clatter of thunder shocked him out of his food coma.

"I'm going upstairs," he managed, with every intention of going upstairs to sleep. Parker was asleep.

"Boys," said Emily, and Cho rolled her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Hogwarts at night was very creepy, Cedric realized, especially when it was storming and when he was alone. He picked up the pace, trying to ignore the sharp clacks of his shoes on the ground. He decided to take a shortcut through the second floor when Peeves appeared out of nowhere and almost made him wet his pants. Whatever antipathy he'd had for Peeves before multiplied, and it took every ounce of morality in him to restrain him from punching Peeves in his stupid poltergeistish face.

There was, he supposed, another reason why he hated Peeves so much, but he would never admit it to anyone (he secretly harbored an enmity for all things paranormal and had an inherent distrust of vampires, but he swore up and down that he would never tell a soul the night that he really _did _wet his pants after being startled by a ghoul as a child).

After a few pointed curse words (squandered by the look of it, as Peeves had raced away, cackling), he went up the staircase, taking the stairs two by two, starting to regret leaving the feast early. His mind was racing. He imagined someone following him. Then a flash of white. Then the sound of running water. Except – he paused – he _could _hear running water, just ahead of him. And under the splash of water, he heard crying.

He considered running away. Then he thought of his father (_"Intrepidity, son. Intrepidity,") _and reconsidered. Then he thought of prudence, and reconsidered again.

_Oh, the second floor girls' bathroom. Moaning Myrtle,_ he realized, relieved. But then he realized that Myrtle _moaned._ She didn't cry silently. She _never_ cried silently. A flash of lightning lit up the hall, and he realized that he was standing in front of the men's bathroom.

He thought of his father again ("_Cowardice is no panacea, Cedric,"_) and internally made a note to stop listening when his father spoke. He deliberated for a moment. _It wasn't impetuous_, he thought, _if I thought about it for a moment. _Then he gathered up his wits, and walked into the bathroom.

The first thing he noticed was Ginny Weasley, soaking wet, curled up in a stall, and crying into her knees. The second thing he noticed was that the floor was wet, because he'd nearly slipped and fallen. The third thing he noticed (and perhaps the most important one) was that Ginny Weasley's hands were soaked with blood.

"Ginny?" he said uncertainly. She jolted up, the expression on her face terrified. "Oh my God," she said, and started crying again.

Cedric took a step forward and nearly slid. His feet were soaked. "Ginny, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"Go away," she cried. "I'm busy."

"Ginny," he tried again, "if a class is bothering you that much, I can tutor you…I mean, then again, I'm only really good with cursory reading, but I get good marks…but don't hurt yourself, Ginny…" She let out a sob, and he shut up.

He stood there for so long his legs had started to go numb, and watched as her crying abated. He got a bit anxious, really, when she stopped moving altogether.

"Ginny…?" he said, taking a step forward. She didn't move. He knelt down beside her, barely noticing that his pants were drenched.

He put a hand on her shoulder, and tentatively shook her. He couldn't tell if she was asleep or unconscious, but neither could possibly be very good.

With bated breath, he rolled her into his arms, and she laid there, quite defunct. He jostled her a bit, her head dangling on his shoulder, and upon determining that she was, in fact, completely out cold, stood up.

A crack of thunder rang out and echoed through the bathroom, and she stirred. He watched as her eyes opened halfway, and her hand crept up to rest on his chest. Just as he thought he saw a dawning of comprehension, her eyes had closed again and her hand fell limp against her body.

Now, Cedric was really very uncomfortable. He was usually quite excellent at dealing with girls, but not unconscious ones, and he usually knew just the right thing to do, but at the moment, he had no idea what to do at all. And a rather awkward stretch in his trouser area had begun to arise, and this was obviously not the most ideal position to be caught in.

He could hear voices coming from below – the feast was over. In minutes, all the Slytherins were going to be walking through the hallway on the way back to their dormitory. An idea popped into his head.

He had never been particularly capricious before, but it never hurt to try. And thus, he set out for the Room of Requirement on the seventh floor, towing Ginny Weasley's lifeless body along with him.

Cedric Diggory was good at many things, but judiciousness was not one of them.


End file.
